Second Guesses
by Liberum.Arbitrium
Summary: So Haymtich knocked up a girl, the toasting was nice, he was drunk, surly and harsh, the wife was sharp, impatient and blunt. In a world where Katniss did swallow the pill after killing Coin, she wakes up in the past with this insignificant little change. What will she do with her second chance in the body of Haymitch's kid?


K, so during the 74 games, kat was 16, lets keep this shit cannon. she was borne durin the 58 games, Haymtich was 16 durning the 50th, so he was 24 when she was borne, coolies. Lets get this shit started man

Steady as she goes.

* * *

1-(prototype-see how it flows)

"After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die."

He had to admit, she was feisty, it was what he liked about her, she had will, spirit, something of substance that didn't want to be broken. The midwife glared at him at his chuckle, and he knew what she was thinking, it was wrong for a man to be here, this was a woman's place, but the old hag might of been thinking of something else, he didn't know her.

"You filthy piece of seam shit what the fuck have you done to me" She screamed.

Perhaps it was the fact she was pushing out his child from her body, and the the little thing had been stuck their for about 30 hours, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. The though of 'it takes two to make a baby' crossed his mind, he didn't say it, know wasn't the time.

"Not a good day to be borne" The hag muttered as she went around the room, he snorted, old superstition. Although he didn't admit she was right. Winter should of pasted by now, but it hasn't, it was cold and cruel, the death rate within the district was unusually high, and tonight it was particularly biting. If he hadn't felt the kicks himself, he would of doubted that the child would of survived. But the kid was strong, he wanted to live.

Some part of him guessed it was a boy, but it was simply an assumption, as a child his mother would often remind him of how painful and stubborn he was in her stomach, how he always was kicking and seemed desperate to get out, but when the time came, his mind changed, his defiance, or perhaps fear stopped him from being borne, two days later, he came into the world screaming.

When memories of the past came back, it was a signal for him to reach out for a drink, but this was the exception. His kid was being borne, his. This caused some strange feelings to arise, he never wanted kids, he didn't particularly hate them, but ever since a child he was looking out for his younger brother, and that responsibility opened up his eyes to the reality that kids were stupid, naive things and only survived through sheer dumb luck. The games only reinforced this idea, victor kids were often 'coincidentally ' reaped, there was no point in have a kid to send it to death. The added problem was the kid would be a responsibility he didn't want, but also baggage against him, he hasn't forgotten Snow's face at his own reaction to the proposition proposed. Now, looking back, he regretted it, but at least, as the drunk mentor of 12, he wasn't wanted like he was after he was reaped. It would be best to play that character up a notch.

When the kid was borne, she looked revolting. Covered in blood and other fluids, he wanted to vomit, he wouldn't cut the cord if the hag wasn't degrading him. He was handed a small, black tuffed thing, its eyes weren't open but the screaming was loud. He thought of his father, leaving them in need, he died but he didn't want to do the same

He handed her to his wife. They were married, a quick toasting a few months after they found out she was due, not official, but it was enough. A few friends, some of her family, their was a picture somewhere, he remembered the dress, made from white linen, it was soft and it was the first time he felt the swell of her stomach, it was the moment reality set in.

He offered her to live in his house, but they both knew the consequences, so she lived in her little hut in the seam, he offered her a nicer house, but it made her uncomfortable, the idea of living in the town.

They talked about the formalities of it. She wouldn't have to work, she would always have food and warmth and clothing, but she insisted on the house, it would remain hers. The little seam squat that she loved. It was nicer in side, warm and homey, the two rooms were basic but the area for the kid was already set up. He liked her garden, it was green, and their were four goats in the corner, she sold the milk for practically nothing, now she had him.

There was talk, there always was, of their situation, but a few paid peacekeepers kept the news quiet, the new head, Cray was considerably better than the last one, more lax, a capitol man escaping debt. The fear was still prominent though, it was convenient for him.

It wasn't planned, it wasn't even wanted, but they adapted. It had been nearly eight years since she died, since his hole family died, time to move on, their had been a few women, but she was right. She was Seam blood, she was soft and feminine looking from her disowned merchant mother, she wasn't considered beautiful, plain to be frank, but she was pretty enough, soft skin and a nice face, lankly and flawed. She was very different from the capital, and he liked that.

She was sharp and ill tempered, impatient and couldn't keep her mouth shut when she was pissed, which was almost always, she loved to drank and worked hard in the mines, she had seen her brother been crashed in front of her and been terrified at the fact she was having a child, she hates the taste of tessare grain and feared going into the Justice building. She loved sweets and cheese buns from the bakers. He wasn't sure if he loved her, but he liked her enough to stick with her.

So their he was, holding his kid and looking at his girl cry, she was tired, in pain and suddenly there was a crease on her forehead, a line of worry, his mother had that. It was now his turn, to look at his blood and worry. This was different though, his kids would be feed, never starve to death, she wouldn't spend night freezing, but their was always the reaping, the idea was ironic.

"Fuck, what do you wanna call her" She asked, feeding the baby and sobbed a little, she looked at him with, maybe not love, but like, friendship, he liked that.

He told her, he didn't want to love, he didn't want to talk about his past, she didn't talk about hers. They both planned on drinking themselves to death, alone. They were meant to keep it physical and distant, but he grew fond of her, and the incident happened and... Here they are. He looked at his kid and felt emotion.

"Don't know, your exhausted and I'm sober, we will figure it out" He said. Meaning a little more than just the name. She nodded, and closed her eyes, he sat down and thought about this new factor in his life. Duty to hi responsibility and fondness for it's mother were the strongest emotions he felt. No instant loving affection or protection, it was a baby, it might die, and he though, she might be complete fuck of a daughter, who knows, see how it goes. It will be kept quite, he wouldn't have to tell anyone, he would just have to be himself, it wouldn't be to hard.

The word daughter cause him to feel unsettled, he closed his eyes and held the knife in his hand, he didn't sleep at night, he hadn't in years, it would change know.


End file.
